Daring Masquerade Read Online Free PDF Page A

spread, the men will be hungry. They'll be lucky to get a couple of hard biscuits and a mug of tea for lunch. There's plenty of wood needing to be chopped."
    "What about Gil?"
    "What about him?"
    "He might need me."
    Ross' eyes narrowed to slits. "My workers don't answer me back. If you don't like your duties, damn well leave."
    "I worry if he isn’t with me."
    "For God's sake," Ross snapped. "If he can't do a day's work, he's no good to me." He heeled his horse into motion and rode off.   
    "It's all right, son." Jack patted her shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on your brother."
     
    * * *
     
    Jack rode off. What the hell was wrong with Ross, snarling at the kid like that? The lad had done a mighty job for breakfast. So, he was scruffy and untidy, in large ill-fitting clothes. He had a strange, effeminate manner, but that was no reason to treat him so harshly.
    Ross was his nephew, he had known him since babyhood, and he had never been vindictive or spiteful. War changed men, only natural after the horrors they endured, and Ross had lost a lot because of it. His brother had been killed, his fiancée deserted him when he returned with a disfigured face but the Martins suffered also.
    "Hey, wait for me."
    Ross reigned in his mount and waited for Jack to join him.
    "Don't be too hard on young Harry."
    "Why not? That bloody kid defies me at every turn. Feminine, pretty-boys like him turn my stomach."
    "He is a strange one, but a good worker. The other boy will be all right too. Good rider, pity about his hand though, poor devil."
    "His hand is probably the least of his worries. I'm prepared to give him a chance because I know what he's been through. It's hard to get decent men, but we can't carry him for too long, Jack."
     
    * * *
     
    "You sure you'll be all right, Gil?" Worry made her want to hug him instead of patting his horse's neck.
    "Don't worry, Calvert's medicine worked wonders. I wish you'd stop clashing with him."
    "What do you mean, clashing?"
    "You're obviously rubbing each other up the wrong way."
    "You don't think he suspects anything?" She scrunched her fingers through her short curls.
    "No, otherwise he'd send us packing, but he keeps watching you all the time. You're puzzling him. Just keep out of his way and stop drawing attention to yourself."
    After the men departed, she set to work cleaning the kitchen and eating area. She split the logs that someone had piled into a heap outside the kitchen. Perspiration ran down her face and dripped into the collar of her work shirt but she doggedly kept on. Finally, her arms ached so much she couldn't raise the axe above her head so she staggered into the kitchen and gulped down a mug of water. Slumped on the floor, she nibbled on a cold pancake.
    Weariness overwhelmed her, but she didn't have the luxury of taking more than a few minutes break. She baked a couple of sultana cakes, prepared a slab of beef and a pile of roast vegetables, before wandering outside.
    The sound of stock whips echoed over the mountains and the muffled shouts of men mingled with the bawling of cattle. The Australian bush at its very best—wild, lonely, untamed—and she loved it with a passion.
    If I owned a station like this I would never leave it. She stared at the heavily timbered mountains, so high snow would surely cover them in winter. What a sight to behold that would be, but she probably wouldn't be around to see it.
    Wattle scrub covered the steep escarpments, and in the distance, small flat ridges perched between steep valleys. Kurrajongs and mountain ash grew along the track she and Gil had taken to get up here, and stands of messmate and blue gums soared skywards. I'm on top of the world. Spreading her arms out wide, she laughed, queen of all she surveyed.
     
    * * *
     
    The men arrived back at dusk, hot, dirty and ravenous.
    Gil looked tired, but thank goodness a grin creased his grubby face. Relief flowed through her albeit tinged with trepidation. He would recover here at Devil's